Passion For Healing
by Arrington Blake
Summary: "It was moments like this that made him realize that, for all of her selflessness and bravery, she was almost as broken as he was." As Elena is breaking, Damon thinks back on advice given to him by Stefan and struggles to put his feelings into words. Damon/Elena, Oneshot


Rating: k+ (to be safe, adult themes)

Pairing: Damon Salvatore/Elena Gilbert

Timeline: Put your finger in the middle of season two-ish, around when Stefan and Elena start 'fake' fighting. That is now the last thing you know…now jump forward two years-ish.

Summary: "It was moments like this that made him realize that, for all of her selflessness and bravery, she was almost as broken as he was." As Elena is breaking, Damon thinks back on advice given to him by Stefan and struggles to put his feelings into words.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of _The Vampire Diaries_. This particular plot line is mine but the characters, setting, and love triangles belong to Kevin Williamson and his wonderful staff. Don't sue.

Authors Note:

Hello,  
This is _not_ in any way shape, form, or fashion the first fanfic I have written, but it is my first stab at _The Vampire Diaries_ fanfiction. After my first three year stab at (NCIS) fanfiction I created a new account and took a very, very long hiatus. My gears feel a little rusty and the dynamics of this particular fandom are still lost on me. So, your reviews and critiques are especially important to me. I would also love recomendations for stories, and betas and any prompts anyone may have. This particular one-shot wouldn't leave my mind. My goal was to explore an important but hidden side of Damon and Elena's relationship (or as the show currently stands, relationship to be) I hope I did it justice.

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Passion for Healing

Arrington Blake

It was moments like this that made him realize that, for all of her selflessness and bravery, she was almost as broken as he was.

That the instruction guide on how to make her feel safe and secure was written in gibberish.

When Stefan had left, after the break up that wasn't as much of a dramatic explosion as everyone thought it would be, he had pulled Damon aside, looked at him with a firm honesty that Damon usually used humor to escape and said, "She's broken. Her strength hides that. Be careful with the heart she's given you."

Damon knew the last statement had had a double meaning. Elena had renewed his own heart, just as she had given him hers.

And as much as Damon hated to admit it, Stefan was right. He could think he knew Elena inside and out, but even her paraded strength fooled him at times.

There was none of that now.

She was huddled up against the window, her body tucked into the corner, her tears mirroring the rain drops that danced against the window pane. Her lip trembled violently as she looked up at him.

"Why?" the word was shaky and quiet, so quiet that even with his sensitive hearing he could barely pick it up, "After all this time. Why?"

Katherine was tormenting her life again, had casually convinced Matt that she was Elena, so thoroughly that even with her tongue plunged into his mouth he didn't realize something was up. Jeremy and Caroline had seen, and called Elena later wondering "how she could do such a thing".

Elena shattered into pieces at the idea that her friends could still be so cruel.  
So blind.

"Doppelgangers torture their doubles. That's what she said. This is the rest of my life. I can't trust anyone that can fall for her, I can't -" she looked up at him with such raw hurt in his eyes that Damon's attempt at giving her space failed and he dropped to his knees, crawling towards her carefully. She looked like a scared animal,hidden in her corner – a young woman who had finally hit her wall and crumbled.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, tugging her into his arms to offer some comfort, in the way he knew.  
Words always escaped him.

"They will feel stupid in the morning. Sometimes people see what they want to see; i'm sure dopey wanted to believe that you would kiss him," he whispered against her hair.

She gave him a wilted, watery smile before she reduced to sobs. Again. Damon huffed gently, as he watched her push herself off the floor, with legs that wobled like a young cults, the grace years of dances and cheerleading had given her gone, the hem of her jazz pants trailed against the hardwood floor, the soft sweep it made a roar in the silence.

It was like watching a brick wall rebuild itself without mortar.

"When you look at me," she started, turning around, her arms wrapped around herself in effort to hold all the pieces she felt breaking together. Her fingers tapped against the ribbing of the tank top she wore; the blue grey color of the material a perfect match to the color of the eyes she stared into.

"Damon, when you look at me, who do you see?"

Water was pooled in her eyes, stained a black navy from her mascara so that it looked like the dark ink he used to write his love letters with, it created a glaze over the hazel he loved so much. He wanted to slap himself as he realized that this wasn't about a friends betrayal, but a culmination of all the fractures her heart had taken.

Losing her parents.  
Lying to her brother.  
To her aunt.  
Her father's death.  
Her mother's death.  
Jenna's death.  
Caroline's death as a human.  
And Vicki's.  
Anna's death.  
Her brothers heartbreak.  
Stefan's betrayal. Again, again, and again – paired with the love he still had for her, and apologies that became regrets.

A million little wounds that made her heart so fragile, there were moments he was afraid to hold it.  
To be responsible for its well-being.

It was easy to forget that her fate and universe were cruel.  
Easy to forget because she was independent. Strong. Stubborn.

And here she stood crying.

Begging him to put feelings into words.  
Asking him to love her in her way, not in his way.

"Who Damon?" she trembled and moved herself backwards towards the door.

It rained slush like hail outside with winds so fast they could suck a girl to OZ, but Damon knew that if she really got hurt, the weather and fear of her wellbeing wouldn't stop her.

"You," he snapped finally and balled his hands into fists at his side, ignoring how his nails left tracks in his palms. He tried to get the words out before he grabbed her and showered her with the physical type of love that sated their bodies and minds but left her emotions undernourished, "I see you. _You._ I see a strong girl that has to place the world on her shoulders on the universes worst days. I see a girl…who…who had to grow up to fast. Who loves everyone in hopes that her love alone can save them from the darkness- whatever th-that darkness is. Which is pretty damn irritating because you never let anyone save you. Elena I see," He pulled a hand through his hair, rocking back on his heels as he tried to exercise his own demons, his own fear of rejection.

For her.  
Always for her.

"A woman who is charismatic and funny and too smart for her own good and passionate and the girl who I fell in love with who stupidly fell in love with me. I see the girl I love through the good and the bad. Not the damn bitch wh-"

Her lips collided with his, fast and hard. He'd been so wrapped up in baring his soul, healing her, that he hadn't see her run towards him. Reflex alone had his arms curled safely under her legs where they wrapped around his waist. Her hands pressed and pulled against his collar and his hair, while she slid her tongue into his mouth, flicking it warmly against his teeth. She pressed kisses down his neck; nipped down his throat and across his collar bone.

Her passion engulfed him, took away the nervous ache that had overcome his body. She loved him in his way, gave herself up to comfort him, which was the opposite of what he had intended to do, needed to do, wanted to do.

"Elena," he rushed against her ear, his voice lower from arousal. His hands curled around her cheeks, gently pushing her face apart from his, "Elena baby, stop. Stop."

The frown on her face turned into the most delectable pout he had ever seen.  
And then her eyes clenched shut and her tears traced their earlier tracks.

"Elena I wanted to love you in the way that you need to be loved. I explain myself physically all the time…_all the time_, but we wouldn't be standing here if you didn't need to hear me. I just want that to be enough. I want to tell you the...the honesty, Lena, behind everything you need to hear. You know I want you, you know why and how and the result of my wanting you," his eyebrows flicked in an unconscious raise, "I want you to know why I love you…in words" he finished lamely while his fingers brushed the tears off her cheeks. Her watery smile made his undead heart thump uncomfortably.

"I know." Elena framed his chiseled face in her hands, feeling his rough five o'clock shadow underneath her fingers, "I was _trying" _she emphasized in a pout, "before you so rudely interrupted me, to thank you in a way that you would understand," a slight flush covered her cheeks as she finished, the passion of her earlier attack faded to intimate embarrassment.

Damon laughed a light easy sound and pulled her to him, his hand curled possessively around the back of her neck, the dark mahogany strands of her hair brushed and wrapped around his fingers. He pressed a longing kiss against her hair.

"Quite a pair we are."  
Damon felt Elena's lips move up in a curve against his chest.

"All better?" he quipped seriously, the moment of flirting apologies gone. His hand tangled and untangled in her hair. The unconscious gesture of affection soothed her.

He groaned when her lips pressed a kiss against his ear lobe, "for now, if you'll let me love you the way your dirty minds understands," his eyes rolled back when her fingers tugged his shirt buttons through their holes, "we can just deal with the rest, in the morning."

"But Elena, this is about you-"

"-Don't you get it, Damon, your passion," she trailed slender fingers against the waist band of his jeans, making a hissed gasp escape his lips, "is about me," her hand tugged his belt from his pants, "for me, being able to love you, is my own type of healing. You're love," she pressed against his lips in a kiss, "is all I need."

His laugh at her corny phrase made her smile, her attempt at a return laugh huffing out as he lifted her to wrap her legs around his waist, her ankles bumped against his ass as hers settled in his hands.

Though he often felt inferior when he thought of Stefan's words, after all, how could someone so bad with words and stereotypical boyfriend affection take care of a girl who life tore at daily. Elena's words promised that he held her together, that he was enough.

"That sounds like a good idea to me, sweetness."

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Thanks you so much for reading, I can't wait to hear from you!

Xoxo,

Arrington


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